


Pool length under water

by prussium



Series: Pinned to the Pine (secret affair AU) [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Businessmen, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drama, Family Dinners, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Shameless Smut, they take turns bottoming ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5270846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prussium/pseuds/prussium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Now that you’re seeing what a horrible person I truly am, I suggest you run away while you still can.”<br/>“Never.”</i>
</p>
<p>Alfred chooses Arthur. Together, they explore the life outside fancy restaurants and hotel rooms. (Sequel to ‘Second’s not the same’)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pool length under water

**Author's Note:**

> So I guess this is the fluffy/happy ending y’all have been waiting for. Shoutout to everyone who requested for a sequel and to the anon who messaged me on Tumblr. c: The title’s still from alt-J’s song, 'Pusher’. Please excuse the errors.

_Are you a pusher or are you a puller?_

_We could hold hands for fifteen minutes in the sauna_

_We could hold hands for a pool length under water_

Yellow, orange, and blue lights flicker outside the window like little stars descending upon the dark earth. With a sleep-hazed vision, Arthur fumbles on the bedside table to pick up his mobile. Who can possibly be awake at three in the morning?

He sits against the headboard, and casts the army of knights in shining armour, heroic quests, and unicorns back to the dream world. Before answering, he checks the screen to see who’s calling. _Alfred Jones_ , it says; he’s using his English number. He croaks, “Alfred?”

“It’s over, Arthur.”

He blinks. “Pardon?”

A pause, then a sniffle.  

“It’s over between me and her. She filed the divorce today.”

The crack in Alfred’s voice is like a stake through his heart. “Oh, Alfred. I’m sorry…” He hesitates for a second. “Where are you?”

Before the reply comes, he’s already pulling some clothes from the dresser.

“At the airport.”

“All right. Stay there, I’m picking you up.” With a coat and a scarf on one arm, Arthur grabs the car keys from the kitchen island.

“Okay.”

His knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel tighter. Irrational doubts cloud his mind— is any of this even real? It’s three in the morning and his lover— who’s supposed to be on the other side of the Atlantic, and who hasn’t spoken to him in three weeks— heralds his baffling news: one, he’s in England and two, he’s getting divorced. God, he needs a cigarette to sharpen his muddled senses. But there’s no time for that. Alfred is waiting for him.  

The airport buzzes with caffeine-powered personnels and jet-lagged passengers. He easily finds Alfred at the entrance, sitting on a bench with his blue Samsonite carry-on. Power walking proves ineffective; it takes ages before Arthur crosses the vast space between them.

Alfred stands once he sees him. Red and puffy eyes hide behind his glasses. His lips tug at the corners to imitate a smile. “Hey.”

Arthur throws his arms around him and they hug longer than they ever had. The people around them pay no mind, for this kind of affectionate gesture is common among lovers in the airport. What they see is a story of two people, once separated by distance, finding each other once again. They can only imagine this couple’s story in their heads for they will never know the truth.    

“Hello, Alfred.” When they finally let go, Arthur takes Alfred’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Shall we?”

Alfred nods and tows along his carry-on.

* * *

Alfred has never been in his bachelor’s pad— the fact doesn’t occur to Arthur until he opens the front door and reveals the sparsely-decorated space that he calls his home.

He watches Alfred get accustomed to his surroundings. In the sitting room, the wide visual space creates a relaxing atmosphere. Bright pops of red accompany the pristine white in the pillow cases, the wall artwork, and the floating shelves. Exquisite wooden furniture adds warmth and balance in the room, its rare materials exemplifying the beauty of globalisation and Arthur’s upper middle class upbringing.

Under other circumstances, he imagines Alfred making jokes and asking idiotic questions like _do you really live here or did you hire a real estate showroom for the night?_

“Have a seat.” Arthur gestures to the plush couch. “I’ll make some coffee.”

He disappears to the kitchen and returns with two steaming mugs in five minutes, one of them black with a splash of milk as Alfred always takes it. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

A hum of satisfaction escapes Alfred’s lips as he takes a sip. “I’m sorry I came here with such a short notice. I… I didn’t know what I was thinking. I-I wasn’t even sure you’re here, but thank god you are.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Arthur stares at the top of his knees. “Were you planning to come over for some time or…?”

“No. It’s just… after everything that happened today, I figured I needed to see you.”

“Right.”

“I couldn’t live like this anymore, Arthur,” says Alfred. “All these secret trips. Lying and hiding… I can’t do it anymore, so I told her. I loved her, I still do, but in a platonic sense, you know? I loved her romantically at first, but when I met you, I realised…”

Arthur breaks their eye contact and turns his attention to the abstract painting on the wall.

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known and she deserves someone better.” The mug is at the risk of breaking inside Alfred’s grip. “One day we talked, like, really talked. We rarely do that these days, you know? I told her everything and… we agreed to end it.”

Because Arthur doesn’t want to aggravate him by asking more questions, he lets Alfred speak. He keeps the spontaneity of a two-way conversation by nodding, humming, and saying I see from time to time. Other than that, he really has nothing left to say.  

“Arthur, I’m thinking…” Alfred takes a deep, shaky breath. “After everything gets sorted out… Maybe… C-Can move in with you?”

Here comes the dreaded silence. The sitting room suddenly becomes as still as the early morning.

“I don’t know, Alfred.”

Arthur realises the fault in his chosen words, but it’s too late before he can say more.

“Don’t you want me anymore?” Alfred asks with a quivering voice. His eyes are wide and brimming with tears that threaten to fall regardless of his answer.

“I do! Of course, I do.” He says. “I just… Don't you think it’s a bit drastic? How about your company? Will you give it up just like that?”

Alfred hides his face behind his trembling hands like he does in times of distress, and weeps. “I don’t know…”

“I’m so sorry…” Arthur inches closer and rubs circles on his back. He himself is on the verge of tears as Alfred sobs louder. He clears his throat to get rid of the lump, and says, “Why don’t you get some rest? We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

Putting his head on Arthur’s shoulder, Alfred takes deep breaths and wipes the tears with the heels of his hands. The last twenty-four hours has drained all his energy; getting up on his feet seems impossible. He bites his lip. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

They go to bed. Under the warm sheets, Arthur holds Alfred and stares at the wooden ceiling, pretending not to notice that he cries himself to sleep.

* * *

The next months find them sharing Arthur’s bachelor’s pad once Alfred returns from the States and irons out the legal process with his ex-wife. At this point, the flat loses its luxurious showroom guise and exhibits the signs of human habitation. Alfred gives it a personal touch by placing his possessions in every corner: the pairs of Nikes filling the shoe rack, the assortment of clothes squished in the wardrobe next to Arthur’s, the piles of dirty mugs in the sink, and the PlayStation 4 tucked below the high definition plasma TV.

Having completed level one (labeled Fancy Restaurants and Hotel Rooms), they now embark upon the joys and perils of the next level that is Domesticity.

“I’m home!” Arthur calls out as he collapses on the sofa. He loosens his tie with a tired sigh.

The coffee maker thrums in the kitchen, a familiar and constant sound welcoming him since Alfred moved in.

Arthur closes his eyes. Maybe Alfred forgot to turn the coffee maker off and tramped somewhere, to the supermarket or the shops; maybe he was meeting some colleagues. Maybe Alfred is back to the States after realising this is a ridiculous mistake. Arthur has never reached this point with his previous lovers, so how is he supposed to know?

Office supplies clatter in the distance, followed by cursing, and the next second, Alfred appears from the guest-room-turned-study. “Welcome back!”

He gives Arthur a kiss from the back of the sofa. The tangy scent that clings onto his grey hoodie tells Arthur he’s been experimenting in the kitchen again.

“Hello, stranger.” Arthur reaches overhead and loops his arms around him. “How’s your day?”

“Pretty great.” Alfred sits beside him. Arthur rather likes the light stubble ghosting his jaw. “I checked the potential office spaces in Stockport and went to the gym. Oh, do you know? I discovered a way to banish nosy people. There was this group of American girls, _definitely_ tourists, who talked to me and were like, _you’re American_? And I said yeah. Five minutes into the conversation and they were totally flirting with me— don’t give me that look, _I_ wasn’t flirting with them. Going back, they asked me _what are you doing here_? And I said, _I just moved in with my boyfriend_ , and they were like _oh_ and they left me alone. I should probably say that to the people back home who keep asking me why I moved here.” He shrugs and Arthur chuckles. “And you? How was Bristol?”

“Oh dear, I’m sure they’re having vivid fantasies about you tonight, those girls.” Arthur flashes an impish grin. “Bristol was great. Sealed the deal and went to see the sights yesterday. I think you’ll like SS Great Britain— you know the former passenger steamship? I’ll take you there one time.”

Based on their agreement on the equal distribution of assets, Alfred’s ex-wife, aside from acquiring their Upper East Side penthouse in Manhattan, will also get her own share of the company and will serve as its new CEO. On the other hand, Alfred gets their property at the Hamptons as well as his own share, which he will use to establish the company’s British operations.

“I made lamb chops with herb and pomegranate salad.” Alfred announces as they reach the kitchen.

Upon entering, Arthur’s mouth water at the zesty smell of lemon and grilled lamb. “Mmm… Did you?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to feed you take-aways after being away for two days.” Alfred says while setting the dishes on the kitchen countertop.

“That’s very sweet of you.” Arthur retrieves a bottle of Saint-Émilion from the wine closet and places two wineglasses beside their plates. “Alfred, that looks fantastic— I’m famished. Shall we start?”

The explosion of flavours in his mouth measures up with the visual presentation. The herbs and spices blend wonderfully with the marinated meat. Arthur attacks his food like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. His fork hangs mid-air as he finds Alfred watching him. He laughs with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. This is so, so good.”

Alfred mirrors his sheepish smile. A reddish tint covers his cheeks. “Can’t take all the credit. Francis came over to help.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah. He said these dishes need ‘adult supervision’ whatever that means,” Alfred says and swigs his wine.

The kitchen is one of the flat’s unsullied areas because neither of them is especially skilled at cooking. Take-aways and microwaved left-overs are the easiest resort to their hopeless state, which Francis, Arthur’s master chef friend, constantly complains about.

“Do you remember the time we attempted making roasted quail?” asks Alfred.

Arthur munches his toasted pitta bread. “The one we flambéed with Cognac and ended up setting the kitchen on fire? Very vividly.”

Alfred laughs at the memory. “I didn’t know playing house can be life-threatening. Let’s never do that again.”

Their time together constantly unfolds new discoveries. For Arthur, he has discovered that Alfred loves the bubble chair like a child loves swinging in the park. He has an obsession with aliens and he snores in his sleep. Meanwhile, Alfred has learned about Arthur’s strange attachment to the teddy bear he owned since he was four. He is more of a workaholic than Alfred is, and will push himself to work even when he’s ill. The list grows longer with each day they spend together.

“The cleaning lady said she had an emergency so I did the laundry today.” Alfred announces as he takes his claim on the right side of the bed.

Arthur’s features form a sharp silhouette when he turns the night light off. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Do I get a reward for it?”

“Not until you water the plants on the window box and you hoover the bedroom carpet.”

Alfred narrows his eyes with suspicion. “Are you keeping me here to do your chores?”

“I thought you had it figured out by now.”

Wailing in despair, Alfred turns away like a melodramatic character in those cheesy soap operas he loves watching. “That’s cruel and deceptive. I thought you actually like me. Oh, my heart is broken into a thousand pieces.”

Arthur smirks and pulls the covers to his chest. “Now that you’re seeing what a horrible person I truly am, I suggest you run away while you still can.”

“Never.” Alfred protests and wraps his arms and legs around him.

“You say that, but wait until I start turning into a grumpy old man.”

“Well, I realise you’re inherently grumpy, and you’re getting old, but I don’t think that’s enough reason to like you less.”

Arthur huffs and twangs Alfred’s waistband. His Union Jack boxers are one of the first things he purchased after he decided to live in the UK, and he wears them every time he has the chance. “Prat.”

They share an affectionate kiss once Alfred smashes their lips together. He presses his body against Arthur and sucks on his collarbone. Closing his fists around Alfred’s hair, Arthur leaves a trail of kisses around his neck. As fingers reach inside his trunks, he gently pulls away.

“Alfred, darling, I’m tired.” He says, caressing the moonlit outline of Alfred’s face.

The tips of Alfred’s eyelashes catch the silvery light as he stops and blinks.

Arthur chews at his lower lip. “Maybe tomorrow? After dinner?”

“Okay.” Alfred kisses his mouth again. He rests his head on his arm to see Arthur’s handsome face better. “Promise?”

Arthur nods. “I promise.”

“Are Allistor and Dylan coming?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, boy. That first meeting was the most awkward day of my life.”

“Welcome to the family.”

* * *

The city is a blur of Christmas lights, last-minute shoppers, and screaming children. It’s that time of the year when SALE is the most widespread four-letter word, etched on every window, wall, and shopping bag. Walking hand in hand with Arthur, Alfred criticises every aspect of his appearance— meeting the Kirklands makes him self-conscious to the hilt.

“Is my shirt wrinkled?”

“No.”

“Is my tie crooked?”

“Nope.”

“Does my hair look okay?”

Arthur fights the urge to laugh at his lover. “Alfred, you’re fine. Honestly.” He stands on his toes and gives him a quick kiss. Alfred blushes. “That’s for good luck.” He pats his head. “Not that you need it.”

They link their hands once again before braving the last hundred metres that leads to the restaurant where they will meet Arthur’s family.

“Ready?” asks Arthur.

Alfred takes a deep breath and nods.

Arthur’s brothers, who are unusually keen about The Dinner, are quite easy to locate among the sea of people on account of their brilliant red hair.

“Hello, Artie.” Three older men in identical suits chorus.

“Hello, everyone,” replies Arthur. “Allistor, Patrick, and Dylan, this is Alfred.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Alfred.”

Alfred flashes his charming, deal-sealing, entrepreneurial smile. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“We’ve met before,” says Dylan.

A few weeks ago, Allistor and Dylan thought it was a brilliant idea to visit Arthur without him knowing. He and Alfred were about to resume their bedroom activities when the doorbell rang. Wrapping Arthur’s dressing gown around himself, Alfred emerged from the bedroom with clumsy morning reflexes and foreplay-ruffled hair. As it turned out, their unexpected visitors were two burly, red-headed, older variations of Arthur. _Alfred, meet my brothers Allistor and Dylan. Allistor and Dylan, meet Alfred, my, er, partner._

“Uh, yeah.”

Patrick leans in as if he’s about to reveal classified information. “This is a first, you know,” he tells Alfred. “Arthur never introduces his boyfriend to us.”

Arthur feels like he can use his oxfords for a good kick. He grins to bare his sharp teeth. “Where are the kids?”

“At the manor,” says Allistor. Leaning casually against his chair, he crosses his long legs.

“When did you get here?” asks Arthur.

“At the beginning of winter break. The children couldn’t wait to see Mum and Dad,” replies his eldest brother.   

“We just got from Belfast last Monday,” says Patrick.

“Vanessa and I arrived the other day,” says Dylan. “Why don’t you drop by and say hi to the kids, Arthur? They miss you.”

“You’re well aware I don’t visit until Christmas day.”

“The children _adore_ their Uncle Arthur,” Dylan tells Alfred, feigning jealousy. “They’re inseparable when he’s at the manor. You can’t make them leave the turret where they pretend to be royalty. They’d make him flower crowns and improvise a throne like he’s the King of Great Britain.”

“But I _am_ the King of Great Britain,” says Arthur.

Alfred chuckles with amusement and creates a mental note to coax Arthur into visiting his parents’ house soon. He needs to take a picture of Arthur wearing a flower crown. “And how many niblings does Arthur have?”

“Five at the moment. I’ve got three kids, Patrick has two. Our Dylan here,” Allistor pats his younger brother’s shoulder, “is about to become a father.”

“Congratulations!” chimes Alfred.

“Thank you.” Dylan flashes his signature sunny grin. “Quite a big family, we are— oh look, they’re here!”

Arm in arm, Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland stride across the room. With his slicked back, silvery hair, sharp dinner suit, and polished dress shoes Mr. Kirkland appears to be fifty instead of seventy. Mrs. Kirkland looks splendid in her tailored lilac dress, Margaret Thatcher hair, and pearl earrings and necklace.

Kisses are exchanged between mother and sons, hugs between father and sons. They move around the table like the two hands of a clock.

“Ah, Arthur, darling,” she greets her youngest son.  

Arthur clears his throat. “Mother, Father,” he says, “I’d like you to meet Alfred.”

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Alfred.” Mrs. Kirkland reaches up to kiss both of his cheeks. She smells like roses and comfort. “How do you do?”

“How do you do?”

Alfred gives Mr. Kirkland a firm handshake.

“Arthur has told us a lot about you,” says Mr. Kirkland.

“He did?”

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Kirkland glances at Arthur as she takes a seat beside her husband. “Remind me, how did you two meet?”

Under the table, Arthur takes the hand on Alfred’s lap. It stops trembling once Arthur squeezes it. _They don’t bite_ , he told Alfred earlier.

Allowing himself to fall against the back of the chair, Alfred says, “It was in London, about three years ago…”

* * *

Arthur and Alfred relax against the bedroom door like two fugitives escaping a squad of police officers.  

A sigh of relief unfurls into the air as Arthur searches for Alfred’s face. “That went well.”

“Yeah.” Alfred loosens his tie.

“No, really. They like you.”

“Th-They do?” Alfred’s hands pause. He blinks. “I mean how can they resist such charisma?”

Arthur rolls his eyes.

“I never thought they’d be lenient about handing over the family darling.”

Arthur’s parents are usually quite hard to please, but Alfred won them over dinner. He remembers Alfred blushing whenever Arthur’s mum called him a wonderful boy, and how his eyes spark when Arthur’s dad gives an approving nod.

“I didn’t know you went to boarding school in London. You never told me that,” says Alfred. He backtracks when they first met, when he thought Arthur is a Londoner because he blends so well with the crowd and he knows the city streets like the back of his hand.

“And you never told me you did volunteering in Argentina for a year,” replies Arthur. That is his most favourite story for the night, which have captured his family’s attention as well, it seems. He can imagine Alfred stumbling over Spanish phrases and teaching English to the local children.  

Alfred shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s another discovery for the both of us,” he says, “I’m really happy to earn their stamp of approval.”

“Good.” Arthur drapes his arms around Alfred’s shoulders like they’re slow dancing. “Now that I’ve formally introduced you to my family, we can finally live together in peace.”

Alfred leans forward, his nose touching Arthur’s. “Does this mean we can get a cat now, too?”

“Yes.”

“Eat more take-aways?”

“Sure.”

“Have lots of sex?”

“Always.”

Alfred grins with excitement, revealing his perfectly-aligned teeth, and envelopes Arthur’s lips in his. Mild traces of tomato ravioli, vintage wine, and nicotine cling to his mouth. He lets his lips stray along his jaw and venture lower to kiss and suck on his neck.

Arthur caresses the soft hair on the back of his head as Alfred rests his head upon his shoulder. Bent over like this, Alfred seems smaller, more adorable.   

“You promised.” He says, inhaling the scent of Arthur’s cologne that reminds him of the sea.

“How can I forget?”

Arthur cradles Alfred’s face in his hands to initiate the kiss this time. He tilts his head to the side and nibbles at the lower lip. They lock their lips into a deep kiss as Arthur grips his hips forcefully. Alfred opens his mouth and Arthur takes it as the chance to let his tongue slide inside and tickle its roof, making him moan and sigh with pleasure. Soon they share warmth and wetness in their mouths, and both of them crave for more.

Clinging into each other, they take off their clothes. Alfred wriggles out of his dinner suit and unbuttons his starched shirt with haste, almost ripping it from his chest like some superhero changing into his costume. Giggling, Arthur nearly falls out of balance while taking off his socks.

He latches a leg around Alfred’s body as they fall to the bed. Alfred undoes his own slacks, but keeps his white boxers on— tugged down a little, they display the glorious V line in his lower abdomen.

“How should we do it this time?”  

“Do what you want,” Arthur replies, grinding his growing manhood against his hip. “I’m all yours.”

Alfred blushes upon hearing his response, which were the same words he said about a year ago in a hotel room. So many things have changed since then.

“Alfred?”

He blinks, and realises Arthur has stopped pressing his lips on his skin. His glasses are no longer perched against the bridge of his nose. “S-Sorry.”

“Is everything all right?”

He nods, nuzzling the side of Arthur’s neck. “I’m just thinking about how things have changed since last year.”

Arthur runs his fingertips across the smooth skin of his back. “And are you happy about the change?”

“Perfectly happy.”

Before Arthur can say anything else, Alfred’s lips find their way to his lover’s chest, nibbling softly and sucking on his stiff nipple. Then, he moves to the other, repeating the same tickling motions that makes Arthur gasp. He lays Arthur on his back and spreads his legs. Using his teeth, Alfred slowly unzips Arthur’s slacks.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t have much time for you lately.” Arthur’s breath hitches at the sight of his lover’s lustful face between his thighs.

Alfred’s eyes linger on his body, which is now stripped of clothing except for the underpants. “Like I said, it’s okay.” Alfred straddles Arthur’s hips and kisses the corners of his lips. “We’re together now.”

He reaches between them and gropes the swell of Arthur’s clothed cock. Then, he slips two fingers inside his briefs to take a peek at the dripping erection. He smirks. “Wow, you’re already hard and wet, sweetheart.”

Arthur shivers, his mouth hanging open, when Alfred strokes it again. “Aah…ah…”

“Feels good?” asks Alfred. He inserts his thumbs beneath the sides of Arthur’s briefs and pulls them down deliberately, keeping his eyes on Arthur’s reddening face as he slides them down his legs. His teasing makes Arthur’s breath catch in his throat.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” he says, rubbing the head of Arthur’s throbbing cock with slow, circular motions. “I really missed it.”

Arthur’s face heats up even more. He hears a moan escape from his own lips as Alfred slides his fist up and down the exposed shaft. Alfred parts Arthur’s thighs wider and dips his head to flick his tongue around the slit and to suck at the balls. Arthur moans again as Alfred takes the head into his mouth. He lifts his hips and digs his fingers on the covers. Then, he wraps a hand around Alfred’s hair to slide more of his cock into his lover’s mouth.

“Mmm, it’s so good…”

He feels his cock throb harder as he sees the concentration on Alfred’s face— his cheeks are even more hollow and delectable with his mouth around Arthur’s cock. Alfred sucks harshly and moans, eliciting an equally arousing reaction from Arthur.

“Ah… Alfred…”

Alfred decides to pleasure himself as well, pulling out his erection and stroking it, and echoes Arthur’s delighted groans.

Watching Alfred touch himself adds to the pleasure his mouth is giving him. Arthur writhes as he becomes aware of his own cock hitting the back of Alfred’s throat.

“Mmm… Go faster, please.” Arthur closes his eyes and arches his body to gain more friction. “Faster…!”

Alfred catches a slower pace, and the next moment, Arthur’s cock is no longer within the confines of his hot mouth.

Arthur growls. He can’t be denied orgasm this time. It’s not fair. “Alfred— Alfred, please…”

He hears a chuckle, and the familiar pressure of Alfred’s mouth returns around his manhood. Alfred picks up the pace and sucks more harshly this time, liberating broken gasps and ragged breaths.

“Shit, I…I can’t… hold it any longer…”

Arthur thrusts his hips upwards, demanding more pressure. He crumples Alfred’s hair into his fists and feels his nose repeatedly brushing the base of his cock. After a few more curt and strong thrusts, he finally gives in, his load shooting down Alfred’s throat. Arthur cries out louder as the last spurts slide down his lover’s mouth. When he opens his eyes, he finds Alfred staring at him, smiling widely and wiping the spilled cum from the corners of his lips.  

“Did you like it?” He asks, nuzzling Arthur’s sweat-slicked chest.

“Yes… very… much…”

Alfred snuggles closer to Arthur, his cock erect and dripping. He presses himself on top of Arthur and grinds against him in the hopes of arousing him again. “Arthur, I want you…”

Arthur exhales heavily, rolling his hips against Alfred. He feels blood rushing between his legs, making his cock swell. “Aw, did you miss me that much?”

“Yes.” Alfred swallows. His own erection feels more painful by the second. “Please…”

“Very well.”

Arthur fishes out a condom and the bottle of lubricant from the bedside drawer as Alfred relaxes on the mattress. Settling himself on Alfred’s lap, he squeezes their members together. His lips find Alfred’s and they indulge in his wet warmth. He tastes himself as Alfred sucks on his tongue, and he lets out encouraging moans. He lets go to press his lips on Alfred’s ear, and they move slowly to his jaw and to his throat, kissing and sucking and biting. As his mouth works on Alfred’s upper body, his hands slide down between their legs, fondling theirs cocks at a leisurely pace.

A low growl escapes from Alfred’s mouth; he breathes heavily. He can’t seem to stop the sounds of pleasure from leaving his mouth as Arthur flicks his tongue up and down his sensitive nipples. The muscles in his lower abdomen tighten when Arthur’s ticklish touch runs along his plump, inner thighs.

Alfred presses himself closer to Arthur to get him to speed up his stroking. Arthur grins at his eagerness. His one hand catches a slower, torturous pace while his other hand plays and squeezes at his balls softly. “Arthur, please… Arthur…”   

“What is it, _Al_ fred?”

Before he can say more, Arthur stoops and kisses the head of Alfred’s cock. Alfred shivers as he repeatedly licks the fluid running down from the slit. “Aah… I… I…”

“Let me see all of you.”

As if to prolong his arousal, Arthur lifts Alfred’s leg to have a better view of his erection and his puckered entrance. From this angle, he can perfectly see his lover’s open body. He trains his eyes on Alfred’s face as he brushes his soft lips against the length of his thigh, starting from the back of his knee, down to the area near the groin. Arthur sees his cock twitch when he sinks his teeth to leave a mark. He puts his leg down and lifts the other one to give the same treatment— a cute shade of red covers Alfred’s face.

“You’re so beautiful…”

Alfred shudders as Arthur continues stroking his dripping length. His lover pushes him back to the pillows and says, “Just relax and let me do the job.”

Alfred nods and watches in silence while Arthur slides the condom around his semi-hard cock.

Arthur squirts a generous amount of lubricant in his hands. Slowly, he strokes his length under Alfred’s watchful eye. He closes his eyes, feeling his shaft reach full hardness, and moans at the pressure of rubber and his own hand around his manhood. “You like watching me, don’t you?”

Alfred gulps and nods sheepishly.

“Lie on your side,” instructs Arthur. “Now, open your legs for me, darling.”

Alfred raises his leg and squirms at the sudden sensation of Arthur’s index finger poking his entrance. In this position, Arthur can see his entrance sucking his fingers with ease. He feels Alfred clenching tightly around him while pushing his ass back to meet Arthur’s fingers.

“Mmm… ahh… it feels so great… Arthur…”

Before sinking his fingers deeper into Alfred’s body, Arthur joins his side and kisses the back of his neck. He reaches in front of Alfred with his other hand to play with his cock and to massage his scrotum. With one, two, three fingers rapidly moving in and out of his entrance, Alfred squirms and pants like a helpless animal.

“Ah-Arthur… j-just fuck me already…”

Arthur kisses and nips on the crook of his neck. He squeezes Alfred’s shaft and pumps it faster, causing it to squirt a drop of pre-cum. “I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you.”

Alfred grits his teeth and hollers, “F— Just fuck me already!”

He presses his back against Arthur’s chest to rub his backside against his cock.  

“Is this how you want it?” Arthur asks.

Alfred nods. “Yes, but… I think it… will be better if… I top…” he says, out of breath, “For easy access…”

“All right.”

Arthur grabs Alfred’s waist and lies on his back. On top of him, with his back pressing Arthur’s chest, Alfred grabs his cock to slide it inside his entrance. Closing his eyes, Arthur savours the wonderful feeling of Alfred’s heat surrounding his member.

“Ah— yes!” Alfred exclaims as he sinks another inch. “Oh… yes!”

Arthur pushes Alfred’s thighs further apart to give himself more room, to let his cock move further within Alfred’s body. They figure out a perfect rhythm as they slam their bodies together, producing the sounds of slapping skin against skin and desperate sighs.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop…”

Alfred raises his arm and reaches behind him to search for Arthur’s face. He pines for his lips against his skin. “Ah… Ar…thur…”

“More?”

“Yes, please… More— harder!” He demands. “Deeper, Arthur— I want it… I want it all!”

Alfred arches as Arthur slips deeper into him, the base of his cock slamming his entrance. He finds his own erection pressing hard against his stomach and he pumps it to their rhythm. After a sharp and deep thrust, Arthur hits his sensitive spot.

Choked with delight, he groans. “There! Arthur… You got it—!”

Arthur wraps his arm tighter around Alfred’s upper body, and kisses the crook of his neck. As Alfred’s pleas grow louder and more desperate, his lips move lower to his side, pressing kisses and sucking his nipple. Alfred cranes his neck to look at Arthur’s flushed face, and locks their lips into a long, sloppy kiss. Arthur hits the spot over and over upon Alfred’s request, one strong thrust after another.

“I’m not… going to… last, Arthur… ah—!”

Alfred finds a hard time rocking his hips and keeping his balance as his legs start trembling.

Arthur hisses underneath him. “I think I’m gonna— go… first…!”

He cries out and spills his seed as he finishes shoving against Alfred with frantic motions. Before the last surge reaches Alfred’s entrance, his lover comes as well. Arthur indulges in Alfred’s screams as his cum shoots across his own chest, his face, and the immaculate white bedsheets.

Alfred waits for the pulses of orgasm to pass until he wriggles out of Arthur’s spent cock. He rolls over and falls on top of him, pressing his ear on Arthur’s chest to listen to his thumping heart.

Heaving a happy sigh, Alfred says, “That was— That was incredible!”

Arthur kisses Alfred’s head and rakes his fingers through his sweaty blond hair. His eyelids flutter with sleep. Before he completely drifts away, he disappears into the other side of the bedroom to dispose the condom and to grab some tissue paper.

He takes a moment to study the naked, haggard, beautiful human sprawled across the bed— his bed— and finds himself questioning the universe. What did he do to deserve him?

“Hey, Arthur. Why are you just standing there? Come over here, sweetheart.”

Alfred makes way just enough for Arthur to squeeze in, and gazes at him expectantly. They have only started cleaning themselves when he stops to ask,“Another?”

Arthur wipes the white stain off Alfred’s cheek, and smiles. “Yes, please.”

“I… I want to be inside you, Arthur.” Alfred lifts Arthur’s chin to look straight into his eyes. “And I want to see your face this time.”

Electric sparks burst beneath his skin as those striking blue eyes focus on him, unblinking. “Okay.”

And they kiss again. Sighing and breathing heavily, they hold each other captive in their arms. Arthur, letting himself be shoved against the headboard, grinds his flaccid cock against Alfred’s, and devours his lover’s mouth with instinctive aggression. He sifts through the sensations— the friction between their slick bodies, Alfred’s feverish warmth, and his harsh, possessive touch all over him. He cries out in arousal as Alfred gropes his cock and strokes the underside of his shaft.

Arthur can barely hear Alfred when he tells him to spread his legs, and winces as two cold fingers prod his opening.

“A-Are you okay?”

“Ah… yes… keep going…”

Alfred rams his fingers deeper into his lover, eager to please. He feels guilt and shame bubble inside his chest. He can count the times he’s satisfied Arthur this way because it’s always been him who receives the pleasure. He probes further in search for his sensitive spot, and it takes a while until Arthur makes the most arousing noises.

Alfred bites his lip. “Is that it?”

“Yes, yes…” Arthur squirms and kicks his legs against the covers. “It feels so good— hah— keep going…”

The muscles of Arthur’s upper body tense as a warm, calloused palm brushes against his neck like a feather. Alfred’s fingers are knuckle-deep beneath him, constantly slamming against sensitive spot. Eventually, the corners of his eyes glisten and he cries out in bliss.

“Ah— Alfred…” Arthur moans against Alfred’s lips and looks at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “I want… you now…”

Alfred kneels before his lover and tugs at his own length to poke his opening. Seeing it clench and unclench, Alfred feels blood surging all over him, filling him with impatience. He wants to be inside Arthur so badly.

Arthur groans even louder and lifts his hips, offering his entrance as the urgent need for penetration intensifies. “Please.”

Relief washes over him as Alfred grabs his arms. “Ride me.”

Kneeling down with legs wide open, Arthur flaunts his impressive figure for Alfred. He lingers over him to let Alfred take in the sight of his naked body— from his face, his heaving chest, and all the way down to his stiff erection.  

Alfred groans as Arthur teases his cock with an upstroke and rubs it against the cleft of his arse. In response, he grabs Arthur’s waist and parts his arse cheeks, his fingers clawing at the round and firm flesh. Then, he grips his shaft to guide its head inside Arthur’s entrance.

A few gasps escape from Arthur’s lips as he lowers himself further to Alfred’s cock. “You feel… marvellous…”

Keeping his eyes on Arthur, Alfred takes note of how his lover’s messy hair is plastered against his forehead, how his pale, freckled skin gleams with sweat, and how his face scrunches up in agony as he struggles for breath. His heart thunders inside his chest as he thinks about who provoked Arthur’s arousal.

He runs his hands along Arthur’s thighs as he sinks another inch. He removes one hand to reach down Arthur’s groin and slides it up and down the leaking erection. This liberates satisfied sighs, leaving Arthur moaning out his name.

They move together once Arthur has Alfred deep inside him. He wraps his arms around Alfred and pounds his lover against the mattress with the rolling of his hips.

Locking Arthur in a tight embrace, Alfred leaves fluttering kisses on his face.

They take turns pushing and pulling the weight of their joint bodies, moving as one. Becoming one. They fit into each other in every way, perfectly, like geometric figures in tessellation. Like two bodies with one soul.

As Arthur reaches for his lover’s hands, he feels like there’s something missing. Alfred’s wedding ring is no longer binding the fourth finger on his left hand. With this reminder, he imagines fresh mountain air filling his chest.

“Ah, yes, there it is!” He cries as Alfred hits his prostate.

Alfred’s large hands move from Arthur’s hip to grope the roundness of his buttocks. Pressing Arthur tighter against him, Alfred kisses him on the lips and slams into his sweet spot.

Arthur’s vision becomes blurred as more tears gather in the corners of his eyes. He holds his breath. “Harder, Alfred— more!” He demands. “Faster— ah!”

As much as he adores Alfred’s loving and gentle movements, Arthur prefers hard, rough— and even painful— intimacy. And in that moment, Alfred gives him exactly what he wants.   

Alfred shoves his cock harder inside him, making him gasp at every thrust. He lets his aggression be known through biting and licking and sucking, only withdrawing his mouth with the need of air. He digs his fingers on Arthur’s skin with enough pressure to leave bruises, his nails etching hairline welts and scratches.

“Fuck— I’m so close!”

“Me— too!”

Alfred wraps his hand around Arthur’s cock again, and pumps into the rhythm.

“Faster, Alfred. Go faster— ah!— I’m… almost there!”

Bucking his hips upward, Alfred pounds Arthur’s prostate with the head of his cock frantically, making him cry out in pleasure. He, too, screams as a sharp pain shoots between his legs.

Between laboured breaths, he hollers. “Ah-Arthur, I’m coming—!”

Alfred thrusts and cries out his climax, his mouth round and wide open. Soon, Arthur joins him and throws his head back— his cum jets across Alfred’s chest as pain and pure bliss rip through him.

Alfred grins at Arthur, huffing and puffing, through his languor. Swaying above him in exhaustion, Arthur grins back, then winces as he lifts himself off Alfred’s softening cock.

Sliding the condom off, Alfred reaches for a handful of tissues to clean them up. Perhaps it’s his imagination, but he can already feel the soreness on his lower back. He’ll be more than happy to stay in bed in the next morning, and maybe share a nice hot shower with Arthur to ease the sting on their skin.

They linger in silence once more. Arthur cards the strands of hair from Alfred’s sweaty forehead as his lover cuddles him, wrapped around him like a security blanket.

“I don’t think I ever told you this before,” says Arthur.

Alfred hums sleepily.

“I love you, Alfred.”

Blinking, Alfred pushes himself up on his elbows. “I love you too, Arthur.” He smiles and wraps his arms around Arthur, his eyes stinging with tears. “And thank you. For everything. Oh God, you don’t know how happy I am right now.”

Arthur returns the hug and hums. “Me too.”

Alfred buries his face on his shoulder. “How many cats can we adopt?”

“As many as you want.”

“Uh… How about… kids?”

After hesitating for a second, Arthur replies, “I’m not sure about that, Al… I mean, kids are okay, but I don’t think I can be a good parent.”

“Okay. Let’s raise five kittens then.”

“Deal.”

They say nothing for the next moments.

“Is it okay if…” says Alfred. “Is it okay if we give it some time? You know… taking the next step, getting married and everything?”

“You know,” says Arthur. “You don’t have to pressure yourself because it doesn’t really matter to me. What matters is we’re together and we love each other. I don’t need a gold ring or a piece of paper to prove your love for me.”

“That’s true.”

Alfred cusps Arthur’s hand in both of his. He gently traces circles along the knuckles and over the prominent veins. “Will you help me with my business proposal tomorrow?”

“Of course,” says Arthur. “What else do you want to do?”

“Sleep.” His lips press against the centre of Arthur’s chest. “And cuddle and sleep some more. We can make love all day if you want.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“We can still take Tino up on his offer about the sauna party.”

“Do you want that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let’s spend New Year’s in Helsinki then.”

“Arthur, you’re the best!” Alfred cheers, kissing the top of his head. “Can I take you to Miami in the summer? I’m gonna teach you how to swim.”

Arthur wrinkles his nose like he does when expressing his disapproval, and Alfred finds it nothing but cute. “Only if we start with the pool first.”

Alfred chuckles. “Okay. Before that, though, I wanna throw a birthday party at the Hamptons.”

“No problem,” says Arthur, “but don’t expect me to party hard with your friends and sing along to your patriotic playlist.”

“You’re no fun, Artie.” Alfred pouts. “How can you not sing along to Lana Del Rey? _Tell me I’m your National Antheeeem!_ ”

“No.”

“How about Halsey? _We are the New Americanaa…_ ”

Arthur laughs like he’s being tickled. “You are full of wonders, Alfred Jones. Any other plans you wish to tell me?”

“Oh, I have lots more. Steal a car and play detectives, grow a rose garden, run a ski resort in the Alps, live a life of decadence… I can show you my Lifetime Bucket List, but I’m falling asleep. That’s all for now, baby.”

Arthur smiles as he imagines a wrinkly, grey-haired Alfred humming his favourite tunes while tending over some rose bushes. “I guess growing old with you won’t be a bad decision,”he says. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Alfred cups his cheek to give him a deep and lasting kiss. “Good night, Arthur.”

“Good night.”

Despite exhaustion consuming him, Arthur can’t fall asleep just yet. He wants to reassure himself this is not a cruel dream.

“Alfred?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

****  


**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, I don’t have much plans about this AU (originally, I just wanted to write secret affair smut). I’m sorry if the plot seems a bit rushed/underdeveloped. I just kinda winged it, really. Also, I suck at writing happy endings, but you’ve convinced me so I tried. :P I hope the confession after the long-winded frickle frackle counts as a happy ending. Peace out.


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